


The Great Rite

by Albion19



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love/Hate, Paganism, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2329340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albion19/pseuds/Albion19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana dreams of her future and discovers the truth about Merlin. Fuelled by rage and betrayal she plans retribution but her destiny may lead her down another path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this over here...

For the first time in over three decades bonfires are in the fields again. Before the purge the people of Camelot, from Druid to simple country folk, could light the fires on the night of Beltane with no fear of consequences. Now they are free to do so again but the fires are tended to with a tempered excitement and Morgana knows it will take years for the fear of reprisal to fade. The sting of past wrongs is still felt by many but drums beat and people dance. Even the lofty inhabitants of Camelot celebrate in their halls.

Morgana does not have the luxury of such surroundings or company but she does take some pleasure in the place she resides. The Isle of the Blessed at first glance looks no more then a ruin, the turrets destroyed and decade's worth of ivy and weeds left to grow over the remnants of what was once a beautiful castle. But the damage is fixable and for the last few months she has taken great pains in restoring the castle to its former glory. It will rival Camelot once completed.

Once she has accomplished that the Isle will be filled with people again, novices and priestesses come to study and worship. Her desire for the throne of Camelot is like a fever dream to her now, mad and without reason. She is the last High Priestess and it is her duty to bring the Old Religion back into the light of day, just as her sister wished. This is her true seat of power and she will prove to be a fair but firm ruler. Once the Druids have seen sense that is…

* * *

She offers a prayer to the ceremonial fire and the stars above before lying down to sleep. The night is cold, even with the fire, and she huddles into her furs and relaxes. The few men and women, all builders or servants, she had persuaded to stay with her sing below and laugh, tending to their bonfire and she smiles with a small ache of loneliness before sleep claims her…

_The drums pound, echoing her heartbeat and with a stab of fear and exhilaration she watches from her throne as he comes through the entrance of the tent. Incense drifts into the air, pungent and intoxicating, and he leaves a wake of smoke in the air as he comes towards her. She regards him intensely, chin held high and shifts in her seat when he bends over in a mocking bow, flourishing his hand. She will allow him that but only once._

_As he straightens he takes off the dragon scale mask that covers his eyes and throws it aside and gold eyes flash at her. Merlin walks forward, drops to his knees and bows his head and she places her hand on his head gently._

_"Emrys…"_

_He looks up, gold eyes matching her own, and suddenly tugs her down to him and their lips lock._

"No!"

With a shout she bolts awake and stares at her dark chamber with wide eyes. The feel of his hair under her fingers, the taste of his lips and the smell of incense is still surrounds her but all this is secondary to the awful revelation, the dreadful truth. His eyes had been golden, a gold to match her own.

_Merlin has magic._

* * *

The need for retribution and the desire to kill and maim had been instant and all consuming but as she contemplated the ways in which to kill him a quiet, steady voice had cut directly through her rage and she had stopped to listen.

_Killing him will not be enough; will not take away the years of lies and deceit. You dispatch enemies you do not know easily but he deserves something far more personal. You are alone because of him and it is only fitting that you pay him back in kind._

That is how she finds herself in Ealdor the morning after Beltane. A smouldering bonfire is all that is left of the celebrations the night before and the smoke hides her passage. Dawn is not yet here and most of the villagers sleep. She passes couples in the fields, in varying degrees of undress, but finds Merlin's mother asleep in her own bed alone.

It has been many years since Morgana has seen Hunith but the kind faced woman is not much changed but for greying hair. As she comes to stand at the foot of her bed she wonders if she knows the truth about her son. Now she will find out one way or the other.

"Hunith, wake up," she says quietly and offers the sleepy woman a smile when her eyes spring open.

"Mor — Morgana?"

"You remember me? I'm flattered," she drawls as Hunith sits up, staring at her warily.

"What are you doing here?"

"Haven't you guessed? I've come to kill you," she replies sweetly and her eyes flash gold.

Hunith stiffens and then opens her mouth to scream. Morgan lifts her hand and the scream is ripped away with a spell. Hunith grabs her throat, eyes bulging, and Morgana smirks.

"Don't be foolish. If you cause a fuss and your neighbours come to investigate I'll be forced to kill them too. So keep your mouth shut." She looks around for a chair and sits as Hunith lowers her hand, eyes round with fear. After a few minutes she composes herself and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, the cover clutched between her hands.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks quietly and Morgana is impressed by how calm she sounds.

"Because of him," she grits out and her sweetness disappears into fury. "He lied to me, he pretended to be this stupid serving boy but I know the truth. How does it feel to have such a deceitful son?"

"I — I don't know what you're talking about," Hunith falters, eyes averting.

"Don't lie to me! He has magic! He is Emrys!" saying this aloud causes a spike of dread to go through her and the plates on the shelves shake and fall to the floor, cracking and shattering. She clamps down on the fear and the room stops moving.

"Emrys?" Hunith says and this time her confusion is honest. Morgana narrows her eyes at her thoughtfully. There are many leagues between Camelot and Ealdor. How much does Hunith actually know about her precious son?

"If you admit that your son has magic I will not kill you," she says mercifully. Hunith remains stonily quiet and Morgana lifts a brow. "You don't deny it but I'm sure if I called over one of the villagers it would get you talking. Shall I try?" she gets up and heads to the door but Hunith lifts her hand.

"Wait! Don't hurt them, they've done nothing," she shakes her head with a sigh and Morgana stands still as Hunith gazes at her sadly. "Why are you so angry Morgana?"

Morgana blinks before coming forward. "Because he lied to me! I trusted him and he stabbed me in the back," she hisses and Hunith flinches back.

"You're hurt?"

"Hurt?" she laughs and sits back down, "I'm furious."

"Do not look upon Merlin too harshly. He has to lie for fear of his life. He could not tell anyone...He is not a bad person," she adds softly and Morgana laughs again but it is a bitter sound.

"You have no idea, do you? I'm sorry to break this to you but your son is not a good man. He is deceitful and a coward," she says it through gritted teeth.

Hunith shakes her head in denial. "He is not a coward. I have never met anyone so brave. I am lucky to have him for a son," she says proudly and Morgana's mouth falls open.

"Lucky? Your son is evil!"

"Who are you to throw that word around?" she asks with surprising bite.

"He poisoned me! He tricked me into drinking it and then held me in his arms and waited for me to die," she screams uncontrollably and covers a hand over her mouth. She had wanted to tell her this, to shock her with the truth and garner pleasure from her pain but never in such an emotional way. She is losing control. Hunith blinks and tries to deny it but the tears that Morgana tries to hide make her pause.

"He would never do that," she whispers in a trembling voice.

"That's what he'd like you to believe. Ask him. He kills our kind and he lies…because of him I have no one. My sister is dead…" she trails off and feels tears welling up and blinks them away angrily.

"I think you're lying…but I also think you are very lonely and troubled. The young woman I met once was brave and honourable…What of your mother?" Hunith asks suddenly and Morgana regards her with shock.

"My mother…?"

The tears that had sprung into her eyes were from anger and self pity but now a new pain rises and she suddenly stands and without a backwards glance blasts the door open and leaves.

* * *

He runs down the path, the cries of greeting from his old neighbours deaf to his ears. He had been dreaming, a strange carnal dream that has been plaguing him for weeks, when through those vague shifting images had come something striking and clear: Morgana in his mother's house. He does not have much skill in foretelling but he can decipher a dream from a vision. Teeth gritted he races to Hunith's door and finds it blown off its hinges. Panic besets him and with a stomach curling fear he dashes inside and sees his mother sweeping the floor.

"Merlin!"

His knees almost go weak and he exhales in relief. "You're alive. Are you okay?" He comes forward and takes her hand, making the broom clatter to the floor. His mother has always been a serene woman but her fingers tremble in his.

"It was Morgana."

"She'll pay for this!" he snarls but Hunith grabs hold of him as he makes for the door.

"She knows Merlin! She knows you have magic."

Merlin stares at her, lost for words before the implication of what she is saying crashes down on him. "She can't know, there's no way…how?"

"I don't know but she was beside herself with anger. She said you betrayed her," she stares at him incredulously.

The rage that flares inside him dims but only just. "I never wanted to lie to her but I couldn't tell her the truth. I couldn't trust her."

"I understand that but she does not. She said…" Hunith trails off, averting her gaze and Merlin frowns.

"Said what?"

"Nothing, she was lying, you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?" Even as he asks he knows what she is trying to deny. His eyes grow sad and guilty and Hunith's mouth falls open.

"Poison? Why?"

"I had no choice, the city was dying and I had to stop it and the only way to do that was by…" he struggles to continue, to voice his terrible actions. "If I could go back and change it I would. I've told myself from that day on that I _had_ to do it but I feel so ashamed. It was awful…it's amongst all the blood on my hands."

Hunith lays her hand against his cheek and he holds back tears. "Merlin…" she tries to offer condolences but there are none to give nor does he want them. She loves him, despite what he has done and that is enough.

"She's going to use this knowledge against me. She'll tell Arthur."

Just when he is about to tell his friend and King. It has been over ten years and as each year passes he tells himself that he will do it but each year comes and goes and still he keeps the truth hidden. Morgana must not ruin his chance. Merlin races for the door as spits of rain begin to fall.

"Merlin! What are you going to do?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago," he answers and runs from the door, leaving Hunith to stare after him with worry.


	2. Retribution

The clouds are so dark that they block what little sun there is, creating an artificial twilight. The light is an odd, sickly green and as the wind suddenly dies down Morgana knows that the storm will be ferocious. She rises beside the cairn, staring down at what remains of her family. She has always come here to clear her head and to remind herself what she is fighting for. Her sister's remains do not lie here but she has a marker, one Morgana made herself. She walks down the hill and as she does the wind begins to howl, picking up her cloak and dragging her forward. As she lifts a hand to ease the wind she is roughly pushed from behind and sprawls forward onto the grass.

"You dare attack my mother?!"

Morgana turns on the ground, forcing her hood back, and sees Merlin standing over her, his teeth bared in rage.

"You're lucky she's not dead," she spits and before she can react he's hissing a spell, the words lost in the gale. A force picks her up and throws her ten feet, as if she is no more than rag and sticks. Ignoring the pain she staggers to her feet, deflects a spell and races at him. His eyes burn gold and the fury that she had felt earlier courses through her. He holds out a hand, opens his mouth to curse her but Morgana reaches him before he can speak.

Maybe he expects her to utter a curse or to use the elements against him but she does not and he is utterly unprepared when she lifts a hand and slaps him hard across the face. The impact makes a cracking noise and she lowers her stinging hand. The gold that had been blazing fades from his eyes and a red welt appears on his pale cheek.

"Liar!" she shouts, her voice carrying above the wind. He lifts a hand to his face as the rain begins to fall in earnest and within seconds they are drenched. Both breathe harshly, their blood up.

"Morgana, I — "

"Why didn't you tell me?!" After all the fights, all his attempts to thwart her plans, it is this that she finds the most despicable. Once he had been witness to her most vulnerable moments and she had given over her trust because she had no one else. The betrayal she feels is overwhelming.

"I couldn't," he says, voice almost lost in the raging storm.

"You're a coward and a deceiver! What a fool you must think of me? All those times you bested me, a simple servant, but all the while you were like me," she shouts and her razor sharp smirk falters into an angry snarl. "All those years!"

"I couldn't tell you, I couldn't tell anyone," he says, forcing himself to stare at her.

"But it was okay for me to tell you? To share my greatest secret and fear? I was so scared, so alone," she says and her voice catches. "I didn't understand what was happening to me and I came to you, I always came to you because I thought you would understand. I thought you were my friend."

"I was," he mutters miserably and blinks back tears. So often he appeared to be holding back tears, now she knows why. "You were frightened but you were the King's daughter. I was just a servant."

"You think I would have told  _him_?" she stresses and her own eyes grow glossy with unshed tears, ones stemmed from despair. "I needed someone, someone who understood…you should have told me," she says weakly and grabs hold of his shirt, pulling at him.

"I wanted to; you have no idea how many times I wanted to confess. You said you were lonely? Well so was I...I wish, I wish everyday that things had been different."

"Different?" she mutters and lets herself imagine how her life would have panned out if Merlin had told her the truth. She would not be so alone, for one, and maybe together they could have worked to free those living in secrecy. She closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly. Too late for dreams of lost days.

Merlin suddenly grasps her hands in his, the rain making their skin slick. "Morgana? Do you remember what you told me once? That magic can be used for good. I still believe that."

Her eyes open and she looks at him with a hooded gaze. "Your words are meaningless to me. Ideas of good and evil are ridiculous. As if the world is that simple, that easy." She pulls her hands out of his and begins to walk back down the hill, pulling her hood back over her head. He follows and grips her arm and she shakes him off as they reach the tree line of the forest.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh I was thinking of paying my brother a visit. I have so much to tell him," she says with an innocent smile and Merlin clenches his jaw.

"Don't!" he yells sharply and grabs her wrist again.

Morgana smiles in triumph. "So you haven't told him? You deceive even your King?"

Merlin shakes his head, rain falling into his eyes. "It's not like that. I'm going to tell him but I have to be the one."

"But why deny me the pleasure? When he finds out the truth, that you've been lying to him for years, I think he will prove his father's son," she smiles and tries to walk into the forest but he jerks her back and her eyes flash in warning.

"Don't force my hand. For what you've done already I should stop you," he says in a low growling voice and his eyes shine gold, an effort he maintains. Morgana gazes at him deeply, carefully analysing the colour to see how different it is from her own. He blinks at her gaze and his irises fade back to blue.

"Stop me? Shall we have another game of throwing each other around the woods again?"

"I was an old man then Morgana but even so I beat you. Don't push me."

She smiles cruelly. "But I want to. You think you're going to get off light after the pain you've caused me?"

He exhales through his nose, clenches his jaw and his fingers flex around her wrist. He will leave a bruise. "I'm sorry for what I did, truly. I know you don't want to believe me but I don't enjoy living like this, lying to my friends and killing so many to protect them...but I have to," he explains and she stares at him thoughtfully.

"Why? Why you?"

"It's my destiny."

"To kill and torment?"

"You seem to do that fine all by yourself," he retorts harshly and the corner of her mouth curls. Merlin stares at her intently. "We both have a destiny."

"I know," she voices softly. "It took me years to finally see but I know what I must do now."

"Dethrone Arthur? Overrun some other kingdom?"

She sneers at him. "Something which you are clearly too craven to do yourself. I am going to champion for my people," she lifts her chin as he stares at her incredulously.

"Your people?"

"Those with magic. The days of hiding and intimidation are over. I want people with magic, from druids to  _servants_ , to have a voice again."

He blinks at her and then smirks. "That's very magnanimous of you, I'm impressed."

"Mock me all you want while you play lap dog to Arthur. I am the last High Priestess and I have a duty to perform. Once I have restored the Isle of the Blessed I will begin recruiting women who show potential and serve the triple goddess.  _That_  is my destiny."

He stares at her intensely, the jeer fading from his face, and the hand on her arm goes slack. "You're being serious?"

"Yes. I will dedicate my life to this."

He remains silent, never taking his eyes off her and she keeps her gaze steady, not wanting to break eye contact first. When he finally speaks his voice is soft but words weighted.

"I've been told since I was a boy that my destiny is to bring about Albion's golden age. To do that I must be at Arthur's side. I have become his adviser now and I've been waiting for the day to finally tell him the truth. Morgana…" he sighs her name, shaking his head. "I want our people to stop hiding as much as you but you must let me speak to him first."

"Must I? What makes you think that?"

"Because if you really mean what you're saying, that you want to do some good, then you must let me do this one thing alone. This is about more than getting revenge on me. Arthur can decree that magic is no longer outlawed or something to be feared. The people love and trust him, what he says has influence. I just have to convince him," he adds, glancing aside.

"And what if he decides to have your head instead? What then?"

"He won't," he answers curtly and Morgana shakes her head.

"Even if you tell him that has no bearing on my plans. I do not need you," she utters coldly and pulls herself away from him and begins walking through the forest. Merlin follows behind and the rain falls steadily through the canopy.

"As much as it pains me I think our plans are interwoven…like our destinies." At this proclamation Morgana stops as he comes up behind her and speaks to her back. "I was told that our fates would be entwined forever," he says and for the first time since he appeared a glimmer of fear shines in her eyes, thankfully hidden from him.

"Emrys…?"

"That's what the druids call me," he explains and she turns to him finally. The betrayal that she felt is dim but still present and likely always will be. Now she feels curious despite herself.

"Someone told me that you would walk in my shadow. You would be my destiny," she presses her lips together, wishing she could take those words back. Merlin stands close to her, regarding her thoughtfully.

"And you're the darkness to my light, the hatred to my love," he says in a soft mocking voice and she narrows her eyes.

"Love?"

"It's just a figure of speech. He has a penchant for the dramatic…"

"Who?"

Merlin stares at her in consideration, the rain pouring around them, and then looks up before speaking. "Maybe you should meet him, finally."

"Meet who?"

"The Great Dragon," he replies and takes a deep breath and bellows out the dragon's name. Morgana gasps and jerks next to him, feeling the extent of magic he summons with. He is incredibly powerful and it is at once terrifying and thrilling. Abruptly the rain peters off and Morgana feels as if the world is holding its breath. Then, with an ear bursting clap, thunder booms overhead. Merlin grabs her hand again and pulls her back to the field where the dragon lands with a thud.

"Mother…" she breathes and stares open mouthed at the huge dragon before her. One gold eye regards her keenly and Morgana has the distinct impression that she has been found wanting.

"WHY ARE YOU WITH THE WITCH?"

"I thought it was about time you both talked," Merlin says and the dragon shakes his wings irritably. The motion causes her hood to fly back.

"DID YOU NOW? I THINK THAT IS FOR ME TO DECIDE."

"She wants to make amends," he says and glances at her. "We have the same aspirations."

"IT HAS BEGUN," the dragon says and unfolds its huge wings. Morgana moves back and then Merlin joins her, staring up with a frown as the dragon begins to flap his wings.

"What do you mean?"

"I TOLD YOU THAT SHE WILL BE YOUR DOWNFALL. DO NOT PUT YOUR FAITH IN HER. SHE IS SELFISH AND WICKED AND BY THE TIME SHE SEES THIS IT WILL BE TOO LATE. TAKE HEED MERLIN, SHE WILL ENSNARE YOU."

The dragon lifts off into the air and with a speed belying his bulk the dragon flies swiftly over the treetops and disappears. Morgana can hear his wing beats fading away and she focuses on that rather than his ominous words.

"Miserable old git," Merlin mumbles and turns to her. Morgana stares at him silently, her eyes large and he comes towards her slowly.

"What did he mean?"

"He's been saying things about you for years."

"What things?"

"It doesn't matter. This was a mistake," he says flatly, his gaze hard. Whatever hopes he had are now gone and he stalks away. Pushing down her shock at what she has just witnessed she walks forward and pulls at his shoulder.

"I'm not finished with you yet."

"I'm not in the mood. He's right, I don't know what I was thinking," he glares at her and she grits her teeth.

"So all your talk about helping our people is pushed aside after the prattle from a decrepit old beast? You truly are pathetic," she says with a cruel smile and he suddenly pushes his face close to hers. For a stomach dropping moment she is vividly reminded of her dream and feels the phantom press of his mouth against hers. It is acute enough to make her step back and drop her gaze.

"When I've told Arthur and he's agreed I'll arrange a meeting with the druids."

She lifts her head up sharply. "No, you come to me. I want to show you the work I have on my hands and what I expect from Arthur."

"And what would that be?"

"Uther stole countless relics from the Isle of the Blessed. I want them back. If Arthur agrees I will meet with him but that's only if your head doesn't end up on a spike first," she flashes a smile and turns away, ready to vanish.

"Give you countless powerful artifacts? Do you take me for a fool?"

"Yes, I thought that was obvious?" she lets her smile drop and pins him with a hard gaze. "If you are as serious as you claim, if you want to stop living a lie and become an intermediary between those with magic and Arthur, do what I've asked. I hate you but I'm willing to do this if it achieves my desires."

She disappears in a swirl of wind and rags, leaving Merlin to blink at her oddly sincere words.


	3. Exhile

It has been weeks since she last saw Merlin and her patience is now worn thin. The level of his cowardice astonishes her. He has had the opportunity to tell Arthur the truth and begin opening up discussions about magic but he remains silent. Part of her wants to go directly to Arthur and cut out Merlin entirely but she knows, as much as it pains her to admit, Arthur will be more willing to relax the law against magic users if it comes from Merlin. Her relationship with her brother is almost non existent now. But this wait is testing her patience. As the sun sinks on a land beginning to leaf with new foliage she decides that Merlin needs a gentle push into action.

* * *

Camelot appears more beautiful and refined as ever, in stark contrast to the withered gardens and tumbling rock she calls home. She pushes down a rising jealousy, reminding herself that in time the Isle will be just as stunning. She slips through the corridors quickly, navigating through the castle as if she has only been absent for a week, not years. As she comes to the royal chamber she pauses, pressing herself against the door and hears soft voices beyond. The king and queen are in attendance but Merlin absent. Straightening with a smirk she utters a spell, one that Merlin will be sure to detect, and pushes the door open into the chambers.

Gwen sits behind a desk while Arthur is placed on the other side, his back to Morgana. Both lean over letters, quills in their hands. As Morgana strides in Gwen looks up and freezes, her eyes growing wide.

"Arthur," she whispers in warning and he turns in his chair to look. At the sight of his estranged half sister he seems just as shocked as Gwen but has none of her worry. As his surprise fades he smiles at her, his face now sporting a beard.

"Morgana. What do we owe the pleasure? No, you cannot have my throne before you ask," he jests but she can see his hand around the hilt of Excalibur, his knuckles white.

"Amusing but I'm here on a different matter. I have something to tell you."

"And what would that be? It must be urgent if you felt the need to barge in here after all these years."

"Yes," agrees Gwen as she sets her quill down. She looks up at Morgana pleasantly but there is a current of anger under that calm surface. "What's so important that you had to leave your cave?"

Morgana narrows her eyes at Gwen but resists rising to the bait. She did turn her into a deer once so insults are to be expected. She walks slowly around the room and glances at the open door. From a distance she can hear running feet and turns to the king and queen with a smile.

"It's about Merlin."

"Merlin?" Arthur says and gets up from his seat. "What on earth does he have to do with this?"

"Everything. I hoped that he would do the right thing but it seems I must be the one to tell you."

"Tell us what?" Gwen asks, keeping her seat.

Just as Morgana opens her mouth Merlin rushes through the door and barrels into Morgana, slamming her against a wall. He pushes his arm against her upper chest, keeping her pinned to the wall and glares at her. Morgana stares at him defiantly and smiles despite the pain that shoots through her shoulder. She digs her fingernails into his arm but he remains still.

"You tell them or I will," she says softly, making sure Gwen and Arthur can hear.

"Why are you doing this?" Merlin hisses angrily.

"I said you wouldn't get off lightly. Just because we have the same hopes doesn't mean I won't crush yours in the process," she explains, enjoying his rage. "And I got tired of waiting. You're unbelievably cowardly. To think I feared you once."

"Now you've just guaranteed why you should. I will not forget this," he whispers and his tone is ice and promises punishment. Morgana lifts her chin despite the stab of fear in her stomach.

"Merlin? What on earth is going on?" Gwen asks and he tears his gaze away from Morgana and looks at the queen. Seeing her confused and slightly feared expression makes him step back from Morgana but he keeps his hand wrapped around her arm.

"Merlin has —"

"Something to tell you!" Merlin interrupts Morgana, giving her a swift glare and she smiles as he lets go of her. He comes slowly towards Arthur who watches with a confused expression. "There is something I — something I should have told you a long time ago, something important about me. I…I…" he licks his lips, trying to speak but no words will come forth. He balls his hands as angry tears of frustration appear in his eyes and he casts another contemptuous glare at Morgana who is garnering enjoyment from his conflict.

"Come on Merlin, spit it out," Arthur says with a smile and gently claps his friend on the shoulder. Merlin smiles, nodding his head but his eyes well up even more and the smile on Arthur's face falls.

"Merlin? What's wrong?" Gwen asks and stands up and goes to him, looking concerned.

Now beside the window Morgana sighs, growing irritated at Merlin's non forthcoming admission. Still he remains silent, even with the threat of reveal imminent. Merlin can not bring himself to reveal his true identity after so many years and Morgana suspects he wished for it to be revealed either by accident or through another. It seems she is to be that person. She wants the truth to hurt him but she knows it will also come with some relief. A burden will be lifted as he no longer has to live a lie. The truth is two fold.

"Merlin has magic," she whispers softly.

The words ring in the air, suspended in time until the revelation is rudely shattered by laughter. Arthur grins, staring between Merlin and Morgana and great gales of laughter escape him.

"Merlin? Magic? Ha!" he chuckles and Merlin steps back, breathing fast and looks at the king in confusion, his face red and eyes wet.

"You think I'm joking?" Morgana asks and Arthur turns to her with a wide grin. "I admit it seems ridiculous —"

" _Utterly_  ridiculous! No offence Merlin but have you seen him? He's more likely to set himself on fire doing a card trick than do actual magic. When you appeared I thought you were going to curse us. But you've really been spending all that time as a jester. I'm impressed  _and_  amused."

"Now I see why this has taken so long," Morgana fumes. "He's probably told you but it's just bounced off that thick skull!"

Arthur rolls his eyes as Gwen suddenly grabs hold of his sleeve, staring ahead in shock. "Arthur," she whispers and he turns to see what she is so startled at.

In the palm of Merlin's outstretched hand is a ball of fire that dances, the flames licking higher and lower with his erratic heartbeat. The smile on Arthur's face dims and then disappears completely and he looks up at Merlin with a slack faced expression that quickly starts to harden. Seeing the beginnings of fury in Arthur's eyes makes Merlin lift the ball of flame and with a hopeless roar he throws it at Morgana.

Ducking the fire she spares one more look at them. Gwen looks shaken, Arthur about to explode with wrath while Merlin only has eyes for her. His gaze promises death but the depths of his despair makes her blink in sorrow before she disappears. While she is disappointed to miss the outcome she has every confidence in what will happen. But as she appears in her empty chambers she feels a treacherous flare of guilt, unable to forget the pain in his blue eyes.

* * *

Days pass and he does not attack. She has been certain that he will come for her, eager for revenge, but he remains elusive. She does not sit idle or think she has bested him or that Arthur has put him to death. As much as she sometimes says to the contrary she knows he will not follow in Uther's steps in this matter. No, Merlin is waiting. If she was in his position she would let her enemy stew in anticipation, waiting for her to strike and come at them when they least expect it. That is why she spends her days alert for danger and her nights weary, too tense for sleep.

Frustrated and tired she utters a number of warding and alerting spells around the chamber and settles down into bed. Though she is exhausted sleep proves scarce, her mind too full of what has happened and what might. As she practises some calming techniques she finally begins to fall asleep, her eyelids heavy as the first pale shafts of moonlight fall through her window.

_…he pulls at the laces holding her bodice together, his lips pressed against her throat. The drums outside beat harder and faster and the incense burning in the bowl becomes so strong that for a moment she seems to be looking down at herself. They are kneeling beside her makeshift throne and their hands make quick work of their clothes._

_"Do you remember the enchantment?" she asks, gasping as he suddenly pins her down, his shirt gaping open. She slides her hands under the material and along his chest and he rises to pull it over his head. A triskel is inked onto his skin, one far more elaborate and beautiful than other druids own. It is a sign of his rank._

_"Yes, I remember," he mutters and lowers back down to capture her lips. As he palms his hands across her body, gliding down her leg to hitch up her dress, Morgana groans into his mouth and open her eyes. He is channelling magic and the power that resides in her calls to his, a link that has always been there and never broken. As he moves between her legs, pushing aside her clothing, he lowers his mouth to her stomach and plants a flurry of kisses against her skin. Her neck arches and she buries her fingers in his hair as he slowly moves lower, driving her to distraction. Breath trapped in her throat she tries to say his name but no words come. She cannot breathe…_

She cannot breathe. Morgana's eyes fly open to look into a pair of gold eyes narrowed into ferocious slits. She opens her mouth, tries to breathe but her airway is contracted and oxygen whisks feebly into her lungs.

_Poison! He's poisoned me again!_

The thought blares through her mind and she weakly bats at him and then with surge of rage and fear she scratches at his face. He jerks back from her and the pressure around her throat disappears. Hand clasping her neck Morgana sits up, coughing fitfully.

"Why didn't you use magic?" he asks hoarsely, pressing the back of his hand to his bloody jaw.

Morgana blinks, eyes watering. She hadn't even thought of it. Magic can be impersonal; no need to touch your enemy when you can curse them from leagues away. The need to breach personal space and have physical contact makes their antagonism far more personal and raw. She quickly throws her covers back and gets to her feet, breathing still laboured but she is no longer suffocating. They glare at each other, moonlight the only source of illumination and it makes them appear ghostlike. Morgana manages a smile and tilts her head.

"I surmise the meeting with Arthur did not go according to plan?" her voice is thin and pained.

"I've been exiled for a year. If I set foot in Camelot I'm to be put to death," he proclaims harshly and a flash of sadness appears in his eyes. But his anger overrides it.

"A year? Well I thought you'd be barred for life. It's not all bad," she offers with mock encouragement and he bares his teeth, coming at her.

"Not all bad? Because of you I'm forced to leave my home! My friends forsake me! This is your fault," he stops inches from her, chest heaving with anger and misery.

"Don't blame me for this. The outcome would have been the same whether I told them or you did," she says and begins to circle him slowly. "Maybe this is for the best Merlin."

"Of course you'd think so," he says and glances aside bitterly.

Morgana shrugs and nods. "While I do get pleasure from your pain I'm being honest. You talk of wanting to free your people, to stop their plight but it's easy for you to say lording up in the King's court. You had to hide what you are; never displaying your power…but now you can live free. For years I have met with other magical people, learned from them. I have seen the culture that is being eradicated. You have that opportunity now."

"Are you saying that you've done me a favour?" he asks derisively but she can tell some part of her speech has gotten to him. A light is in his eyes.

"You said that you're following your destiny. Maybe this is meant to happen. This is your fate," she looks at him thoughtfully. "You can never become Emrys while there and you know it."

Merlin clenches his jaw and looks aside, deep in thought and Morgana moves over to stoke the fire and light some candles. His attack has frightened her but she has the upper hand, the moral high ground. She turns and watches him straightening his slumped shoulders. He stares at her imperiously, almost haughtily.

"I'm going to the druids. I think it would be best for you if we don't meet during that time," he warns and walks to the door but Morgana throws up her hand to make him stop. He whips his head around, eyes gold and she is thrown against a wall and pinned there. He stalks up to her and she struggles but his magic is too powerful.

"You don't tell me what to do," she hisses contemptuously as he stops in front of her. He is so close that his breath makes strands of hair beside her cheek flutter gently.

"I don't like using my magic to hurt people and I don't want to make enemies. I want peace…but you're now the exception. I thought there could have been another way for us but what's done is done. I mean what I said: don't get in my way."

He leans away from her and turns on his heel and needing to have the last say she speaks up suddenly. "Maybe you'll be the one coming to me. You know I dream of the future."

He stops but doesn't turn. "Dreams of the future? What have you seen?"

Her lips curl in a mocking smile but something oddly giddy flutters in her stomach, "That's for you to find out. But make no mistake: you'll be the one searching me out, not the other way around."

He shakes his head and walks out of her chambers. "Goodbye Morgana."

"Goodbye, Emrys. Until we meet again…"


	4. Samhain

Samhain proves to be a cold day and a hoar frost covers the forest floor. It has been months since he left Camelot and joined with the druids. He had been hesitant about going to them, considered staying with his mother but he left his village because hiding who he was proved more and more difficult. Going back was impossible. Gaius has been dead for many years now and Merlin takes some comfort that he did not live to see this. Kilgharrah has been conspicuously absent and Merlin does not have the heart to call for him. He can imagine the dragon is just as disappointed at this outcome as Merlin himself.

Though it causes him ire to concede with Morgana staying in Camelot or Ealdor will inevitably hold him back into becoming a fully fledged wizard, becoming Emrys. The druids had accepted him readily, in fact they had known about his coming since before he was born. It had taken him weeks to truly feel that he belonged in the camp, after being so despondent. That feeling had gradually lessened when Merlin was able to practise magic out in the open without fear of discovery or imprisonment. For the first time in his life he can finally be himself.

However, residing with the druids has some drawbacks, one being their stance on violence. For someone who has used magic more often than not to defend or assault he finds their non confrontational stand hard to accept. Because of this the druids are almost extinct, their numbers wiped out during the purge and those that survived retreated deeper into the forests, becoming more like myth than actual living breathing people. Their passivity makes him angry but they will not change their ways. He is to adapt, to learn humility and the responsibility that comes with having magic.

"Like I don't know," he grumbles, treading his way through leaves until he comes to the narrow path that cuts through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Early morning mist obscures the roughly hewn steps and Merlin stares ahead with a sense of foreboding. Nothing good awaits him through there, the valley is bad luck, but this is the place he is meant to go. During Samhain apprentice druids are sent through the valley where they will stay for as long as it takes. The purpose of this is to reveal their destiny, complete the initiation and then receive the tattoo. Merlin thinks it is pointless, he knows what will await him through there and with a sigh he makes for the Crystal Cave. While other druids might like a glimpse of their future Merlin thinks on the prospect with a laden sense of doom. What good can come of his future now it has been destroyed?

* * *

At first he thinks another druid is in the cave with him, which is not surprising given the day but he had been lead to assume he is the only apprentice within the camp. Maybe a druid has travelled from another forest to discover their fate? Better that than the ghost of Taliesin. Stepping gingerly around pools of water Merlin stops when the shape of this person appears though shafts of crystal, distorted and strange.

"Hello? Sorry to disturb you — "

A feminine moan interrupts him, a sound filled with pain and sadness and it makes his breath catch. He walks around the crystals and stops before the woman. She curled up in an alcove, furs and blankets around her and she sleeps fretfully.

"Morgana?" he says her name softly, surprised at the tears wetting her cheeks. What could make her cry in her sleep? Merlin looks behind him and thinks about retreating when she turns over, bringing her knees up to her chest and cries harder. The sight of her in obvious distress should cause him satisfaction and half a year ago it would have. His time spent with the druids has changed him slowly and his bitter anger is the one emotion he has tried hard to purge. He can never become a druid with that animosity in his heart. He does not wish to harm her but that does not mean he has to comfort. Taking one more look at her shaking back he turns and quietly walks away but as he moves his foot kicks a loose crystal and it clatters into a pool with loud plopping noise.

"Who goes there?" she asks suddenly, awake but groggy sounding.

With a sigh Merlin turns back and walks slowly to her. When she sees that it is him she quickly wipes her tear streaked face with her sleeve and struggles to stand. She offers him her patent smirk but it is offset by her red rimmed eyes.

"I'll leave you alone," he says quietly and her eyebrows climb.

"I did say you'd be the one to find me first," she smiles at him mockingly, sniffing and Merlin gazes at her unflinchingly. The smile on her face fades away.

"I didn't know you'd be here," he mutters and turns to go but then stops. Why should he be the one to leave? If he wants to become a druid he has to spend the night here. Will he really let her stop him from accomplishing that? It is because of her that he is here in the first place and she will not take this away from him to.

"Why are you here? Isn't it customary for priestesses to spend Samhain on the Isle of the Blessed?"

Morgana looks away from him with a scowl and bends down to tidy up her blankets. "I am a seer; this is where I wanted to be."

"Alone? I'm surprised you don't have company," he says sarcastically but a part of him is curious.

"There are no others, at least not yet but there will be," she says quietly and straightens. "I've been travelling to many far off places to find women like myself. If I think they show potential I bring them back with me but only if they agree."

"And none have?" Merlin narrows his eyes at her. "If I was approached by you, knowing what you've done, I wouldn't go with you either."

"It's maddening. They let their fear of something that happened long ago ruin their lives, wasting their potential. As soon as they hear I'm coming they run. So I will have to travel further afield to places where they have never heard of me," she shakes her head, her expression a mixture of anger and sadness. Merlin is surprised. He thought pointing out her past atrocities would get a rise out of her or a dismissal but she acknowledges it.

"Maybe you're the wrong person to approach them," he reasons.

"There's no one else," she sighs and sits on a lip of stone and stares into the distance. Merlin stands awkwardly. He should locate another part of the cave away from her but he can't make himself move. Instead he finds a place to sit, a large shaft of crystal between them but he can still see her face.

"What were you dreaming about?"

She looks swiftly at him and then away. "I wasn't dreaming. As if anyone could just dream in this place..." she trails off and the sadness that had been consuming her earlier appears before she clamps down on it. She glances at him and then lets her gaze linger. "It has been half a year since I last saw you. How has exile been treating you?"

His mouth thins at the question. "None of your business."

"Oh come on. Arthur banished you because you have magic and —"

"No," Merlin interrupts, "I wasn't banished because of the magic. Arthur didn't care about that…" he whispers and stares bitterly head. Morgana shifts and leans forward, curious.

"Because you lied for so long?"

Merlin nods after a long pause, eyes still averted from her. "I told him about all the times I saved him and Camelot, all the times I risked my life willingly because I believe in him and the golden age he will eventually bring to Albion. But admitting the truth made him realise that all those victories and battles he thought he had won himself was mostly a lie. Being lead to believe that he actually pulled the sword from the stone and then realising I had been the one to do it for him…He — he said he felt like a puppet and that he needed to prove himself worthy of being the king of Camelot without someone winning his battles for him. I only wanted to protect him, that's all I've ever done but I understand why he was so disappointed. He felt humiliated and betrayed."

He falls silent, surprised that he had said so much. Being with the druids has had a therapeutic effect on his wellbeing but this he has kept to himself and it is a relief to finally tell someone. Why he has just spilled it all to Morgana he can not say. She stares at him with a neutral expression, not judging or understanding.

"Maybe this time apart will be best for both of you. Arthur will either prove worthy or he will fail without you behind the throne."

"And you'd like nothing more," he grumbles but she shrugs.

"I know you don't believe me but I have no interest in the throne or who sits upon it. I just want a king or a queen who will lift the ban against magic users, bring the focus back to the Old Religion and start talks with magical leaders."

"You mean you?"

"Of course," she says simply and Merlin presses his lips together. "It might take years but a High Priestess and a High Priest must speak with Arthur. In a few more months you will be allowed back into Camelot and you can start paving the way for diplomatic talk."

Merlin snorts. "Arthur will not listen to me now."

"He will. Rages blow up fierce in him but they burn out just as quickly. By the time you go back as a representative of the druids he'll be ready. If not then Gwen will listen. As much as I hate to admit it she does have a lot of sway in court and with the people." Morgana's mouth downturns and she reaches for her pack.

"Why would you even want me to do it? You hate me."

"If I hated you Merlin you'd be dead or worse. I forced you from the people you love, seen you exiled like I have been. That's satisfying enough," she says with a spiteful smile but then grows serious. "I've wanted you to suffer for what you had done to me but that is not the person I want to become. My sister died wanting magic to be restored and the people who possess it to be free and I will not disappoint her. I will fight and oppose anyone who gets in my way but only to achieve this vision. I must follow my fate."

Merlin watches her pull out a canister filled with water, going over her words. This side of Morgana is not new but it has been so long since he last saw it. He realises that he has missed this Morgana, a woman who fights for what she believes is the right thing and not through selfish desires.

"How do you know it's your fate?"

"I'm a seer, I dream of the future. It holds many strange outcomes," she says and for some odd reason a blush reddens her pale cheeks. She averts her eyes and pulls out the stopper and gulps down the water. Merlin considers his own dreams but they have never truly proven to be clairvoyant. There has been one recurring dream of making love to a faceless woman but he has pinned that down to the mostly celibate lifestyle most druids practice. Trying to take his mind off sudden thoughts of sex he focuses on a crystal before him and relaxes.

"I've come here to complete the initiation ritual, to see what my fate has in store for me. I thought I knew so this should be…surprising."

"You have no idea…" she says but before he can ask what she means she walks past him and disappears into the tunnels, leaving him to meditate alone. While their animosity seems to have reached a safe, non threatening level he still feels a spike of unease not having her in his sights. For all her words of reform she could be planning him ill intent.

"Well in this place I might see it before it happens. So that's an upside," so saying he looks into the crystal again and begins to breathe slow and even, letting his mind go blank.

_…on her stomach, just above her mons pubis, is a small tattoo. It is discreet and simple, in contrast to the design inked onto his chest. The tattoo depicts a full moon bookended by two crescent moons. The symbol is of the Triple Goddess and those who follow the Old Religion. The triskelion he wears, though different, is also a symbol of the triple deity._ _As she straddles him and rolls her hips forward he lets his thumb brush the small mark and she sucks in a moan. He looks up at her face, which is flushed, and stares into her gold eyes. An old story comes to him and he smiles._

_"Do you know why we have gold eyes? Morgana?" He grabs her hips and pulls her down and her long hair comes cascading down around him._

With a sharp intake of breath Merlin jolts out of the vision and looks around the cave in bewilderment. For months he has been having dreams of making love to a mysterious woman in a tent but until now he has never been able to make out her face. Now, in the place where glimpses of the future are readily available, the identity of his lover is revealed.

"Impossible," he breathes and gets to his feet. Half of him wants to leave and never come back but the other half longs to speak to her. Does she know? Is this the reason she was crying? The thought makes him grimace and with a long suffering sigh he wanders into the tunnels to find Morgana.

* * *

When he had visited the cave before he had only ventured into one part of it but as he travels further he sees just how massive the place is. Huge shafts of crystal thrust up and down and in some places he can walk along them to reach the other side of a cave. The sound of rushing water becomes louder the further down he goes and as he comes to the mouth of a large cavern he sees a waterfall falling into a lagoon. A crack in the rock above lets in a beam of sunlight; otherwise the cavern is full of shadows and rippling light.

Morgana sits on a lip of stone above the lagoon, her legs crossed and her eyes closed. As he comes towards the pool she opens her eyes and stares at him calmly. But as he gets closer he sees that it is a forced calm. Her jaw is clenched and her eyes dart away and back.

"What is this place?" he asks as he stops a little below her.

"The water has healing properties," she explains and stands. From below her cloak she brings out another flask and approaches the pool. He watches her fill the sack with water and then steps back when she turns to him, fingers twisting the stopper back into place.

"Aren't you curious to know what I saw?"

"Should I be?" she brushes past him and goes back to her perch. Merlin grits his teeth, knowing she will not make this easy for him.

"I dreamed, I mean I had a vision and you were in it," he says, trying to sound as even voiced as possible.

"Oh? And what was I doing?" she asks and the corner of her lips quirk. Merlin narrows his eyes at her.

"You know, don't play games with me. I came here to catch a glimpse of something that is meant to discern the rest of my life. But it was just you — us — doing something ridiculous," he says haltingly, almost red faced with the effort to speak. She drops her eyes, mouth still quirked.

"I know. At first I thought it was nightmares," she looks up at him with a strange light in her eyes. "As if I would lie with you willingly. You!" she says and her mouth twists in scorn and dismissal.

Despite himself Merlin feels a sting of hurt at her obvious disgust. There had been a time when he felt utterly smitten with her and was awed at her beauty. She is still the most beautiful woman he has seen but so much has happened since then. He now looks on her with a mixture of contempt and longing.

"Don't think that was an easy thing for me to witness. I would never do that with you."

"And yet we will," she says and looks confused. She shakes her head, deep in thought. "There are many lengths I will go to, many hardships I will endure to ensure the Old Religion resurfaces but to give myself to you like that? It seems beyond possibility. Maybe you force my compliance somehow…"

"Me?" he yells in outrage. "I would never. These visions are not going to come true. Neither of us wants it to, I think we can agree on that?"

She lowers her head and says nothing. Finally she looks up with a thoughtful expression. "The disturbing technicalities aside I think it is a good sign that at some point the old rituals will be practiced and celebrated again. I think it is an indication that magic will be acceptable."

"If it happens, if it does become accepted, I will be as happy as you claim to be…in the vision I was the High Priest of the druids," he says, wondering.

"And I the High Priestess. In the old days they would perform the Great Rite to produce and utilise magic for good or if the land was under a grave threat. It hasn't been performed for many, many years."

"And hopefully not for many more to come," he responds and her lips thin a little. She comes to him, eyes slits.

"You're so narrow minded, all those years just focused on Arthur. Think of the bigger picture and your role in it."

"My role?"

"You are Emrys. The druids have prophesied your coming for hundreds of years. You cannot escape your fate," she declares and stops inches away from him.

"If my fate means we end up in that tent one day then I am happy to avoid it," he responds bitingly and steps back but she grabs his wrist.

"I do not like it any more than you do. At first I denied the visions and then promised myself that it would not happen. But I have dreamed of it every night, it will not leave me in peace. I think it is important. Would you really throw away the future freedom and happiness of your people because you're squeamish?"

"It's not a case of being prudish," he frowns at her, conflicted and for a treacherous moment he imagines what it will be like to kiss her. She must see the way his eyes flick to her lips because the hand holding his wrist lets go suddenly. But she does not step back.

"We have many years before that happens and the future is not set in stone. For now I am going to focus my energy on Camelot and I need the druids behind me."

Merlin regards her warily. "After what you've done, even with all your promises of goodwill, you're not trustworthy."

"I know that…but they trust you," she whispers and stares into his eyes intently. "I have heard that Gwen is still in contact with you and is trying to get Arthur to see reason."

Merlin nods. "She's been a good friend to me."

Morgana smiles sadly. "Yes, she is. I miss…" she falls silent and glances down to pull on some gloves. It is then that it truly hits Merlin just how alone Morgana is. While he is banished from Camelot he is still surrounded by people who appreciate and even revere him. He has made many friends. Morgana has no one. With an odd pang of pity he brushes his fingers against the back of her hand and she looks up in surprise.

"Is that why you came here? So you wouldn't be alone?"

She stares at him, silent and he thinks she will not reply when she speaks. "I don't like spending Samhain on the Isle, too many ghosts…and I hoped I would see him here."

"See who?"

"Mordred."

Merlin blinks at the name. It has been years since he saw the little boy with bright blue eyes who Morgana had formed an inexplicable connection to. Merlin shakes his head. "I haven't seen him."

Morgana nods and looks away but Merlin can see the tears that she tries to blink away. "I did see him, just not in the way I wanted," she explains in a rough voice. "Sometimes I have visions far into the future. I am an old woman and Mordred is grown. He is a knight," she says and looks up at him with a watery smile.

"A knight?"

"Yes. I only see fragments of his future but today I saw something, something I wish I hadn't," she looks down again and this time she does not attempt to stop her tears.

"You saw him die?"

She nods, not looking at him. "He was in my arms. It was on this bloody battle field. You were there," she says and looks back up. "I begged for your help."

While he feels sympathy for her pain despite himself he can not muster any sorrow for Mordred. If the dragon told him the truth he will be Arthur's downfall.

"Why do you care for him so much?"

"I don't know. From the moment I saw him I felt like I knew him and I had to keep him safe. I don't have a maternal bone in my body but for him…I love him as if he is my son," she explains and Merlin nods.

With one more look at the waterfall they walk out of the cavern and back to the mouth of the cave. The sun is beginning to set and Merlin is surprised at how much time has passed. He turns back to see Morgana gathering her provisions and thinks. In a few months he will return to Camelot a druid. No longer a harried, put upon servant living in secret but his own man to be respected. While he owes Arthur his due and does not begrudge him his anger when he returns he will not be mocked. As he steps out into the forest he finally feels like the lingering tatters of his old life are cast adrift. He did not choose this path to walk on but he can decide how he wants to live it.

"If all goes well I think we will meet again in six months," Morgana says, breaking into his thoughts. He turns to her and a flicker of amusement passes through him to see her with a hefty pack on her back. She sees his smile and rolls her eyes.

"You know if you approach Camelot you'll be so filled full of arrows they could pluck you like a hen."

Her mouth thins. "As a member of the welcomed committee of magic users I will be seated at the round table just as you will be."

"You're so sure of this happening."

"Of course I am."

"But why should you be part of these supposed meetings?"

"I am the representative for the priestesses of the Old Religion. We have a right to be heard as much as you," she says firmly, gaze sharp. "I know I may never win their trust back but I hope what you've seen today has made you realise that despite what has past between us our fates are entwined. Maybe it doesn't have to end in doom."

Unbidden he is beset with the image of her above him and the feel of her soft skin under his hands. He swallows and looks away. Morgana comes to him; either oblivious to his conflicted arousal or pretending she does not see. She offers him something and he looks down to see a small crystal ball.

"If you need to contact me," she says and pushes it into his hand before he can refuse. The warm ball fits into his palm and is a comfortable weight. He closes his fingers over it and looks up to find himself alone. The leaves where Morgana had stood flutter around and then lie still.


	5. Gathering

As the year of his exile comes to a close he does not go back to Camelot. At the start of his banishment he had desired nothing more but now, as a fully integrated member of the druids, he does not look upon the citadel as a reward for his endurance. These are his people and he will not abandon them. But, after a year and half, the time for talks is now. Guinevere has sent word and he, amongst others, is invited to a gathering at Camelot. It seems Morgana is right, Arthur's anger has subsided enough to allow Merlin to be part of discussions.

The night is dark but as they travel closer to Camelot the fires from the castle and numerous town houses shine like beacons, welcoming them. Merlin looks upon the sight nervously, wondering what will unfold once he is before Arthur. For all his anxiety the castle is a wistful sight and while his heart aches for what is lost he looks around him, taking in the faces of his friends and manages to smile. He has lost much but gained more.

* * *

They are shown into the great hall where other people are mingling. Merlin had been told that other magical people would be in attendance as he makes his way into the hall he sees a familiar face. Alator, the warrior priest of the Catha, bows his head respectfully at him and Merlin nods back in greeting. A year ago he would have bulked at such reverence but he has learned that to deny it causes offense. To many he is a sign of great change.

Around the walls the Knights of the Round Table stand, watching the people gathered alertly, their faces unreadable. He smiles at Gwaine who winks at him before becoming smooth faced. When he had been exiled Gwaine had also left in protest and had only agreed to return once Merlin's place back in Camelot was assured. He has only found this out recently through Gwen's letters and he looks forward to catching up with his friend once the talks are over.

The round table is positioned in the centre of the room and people are already taking their seats. Merlin looks around for Arthur, his stomach twisting but sees no sign of the King. Exhaling a pent up breath he takes a seat and waits for the other chairs to be occupied. As the seats are gradually taken Merlin stares around at familiar and unfamiliar faces and the enormity of what is happening sinks in on him. For the first time in over thirty years those with magic are not only welcome in Camelot but brought together so they can discuss amongst themselves without fear.

As he gazes around the knights at the back of the hall stir and grumbles of protest follow the entrance of someone. Merlin turns around and sees Morgana walking towards them with her head held high, eyes focused above. In her wake a handful of women follow her, most looking a little overwhelmed but some carry themselves with the same regal bearing. Morgana seems to have found her new recruits. Since they last met they had not seen each other face to face but only fleetingly through the crystal ball. She has kept him informed of how she is progressing and he does the same. Sometimes she wakes him up in the middle of the night demanding to know the correct spell for a potion to heal an illness and will not leave him in peace until he complies. These occurrences are fleeting but truly she is never out of his mind. Every night he dreams of her and every vision proves more intense than the last. It is not just the erotic aspect but the echoes of his feelings for her that overwhelm him. He experiences the way his future self cares for her and he does not know how to deal with those feelings. As she comes to a stop opposite she glances at him briefly before taking her seat.

"What is she doing here?" An angry voice says and Merlin looks around for the speaker. It is Alator who regards Morgana with utmost contempt.

"She is here because she has been invited, as have you. If anyone takes umbrage at who is here they are welcome to leave."

Merlin looks up and sees Gwen walking towards them, Arthur at her side. She catches his eye and smiles at him and he smiles back but Arthur remains impassive. He looks at no one as he takes a seat and Merlin keeps his gaze downcast.

"After everything she has done to you and this city?"

"We're well aware of what she has done but she is here as a representative for her people. Someone else would be more preferable but we must let past grudges go for the sake of these talks," Gwen gives Morgana a steely gaze which she maintains before looking downwards as Merlin had done. Arthur shifts in his seat and suddenly makes eye contact with Merlin.

"The queen is right. I have summoned this council to not only open discussions but to build bridges. I am not my father but I must make an unequivocal offer of apology and to express my utmost sorrow at the brutality and oppression that a king of Camelot inflicted for too many years. I do not expect your forgiveness, only your acceptance of my deep felt regret and to know that I will do everything in my power to set these wrongs to right."

As he says this he stares at Merlin and only him until he looks in turn at each of those gathered. As the guests talk quietly amongst themselves Merlin thinks that Arthur's speech will be his only offering of an olive branch and takes it without preamble. He nods once at the king and in return receives a small head dip.

"What are you proposing, aside from an apology?" a delegate from Avalon asks.

"For starters a lift on the ban against using magic. This decree will be spread to all corners of the kingdom and beyond. We want this realm to be an open and accepting one," Gwen says and Arthur nods beside her.

"You are talking about a fear and prejudice that runs deep in people," Morgana says and everyone turns to look at her. "For years children have been brought up to fear and hate those with magic. A letter pinned to doors will not make that go away."

"Maybe this goes both ways," Merlin reasons and everyone looks at him in turn. "They fear us because of Uther's propaganda but some are right to be scared."

Morgana narrows her eyes at him as he stares at her pointedly. "Then what do you propose  _Emrys_?" she mocks sweetly and Alator looks at her in outrage.

"How dare you talk to him like that?! Merlin is our deliverance. He is the greatest wizard alive. You should bend your knee to him."

"I bend my knee to no one but the Goddess," she retorts and Merlin lifts his hands.

"Enough. I don't want anyone to kneel to me. I accept my role but I do not expect anyone to worship me. I'm not a god."

"You are humble," Alator says with a smile. "But for years I and many others here have been waiting for you, waiting for the day that you would free us and start a new, better age of Albion. You might not like the reverence but you have it."

Many people around the table nod and murmur in agreement and Arthur stares around in ill disguised wonder. It must be quite a shock Merlin thinks and stops himself smiling. To the king he was just a bumbling clodpoll, not a revered wizard. Even as his adviser it was a role in title only and occasionally he would take his council seriously. Maybe now that will change.

"I will only accept it when I have earned it," Merlin says and Alator inclines his head in agreement.

"As well as a formal decree we want to offer the Druids the land back that they were forced from."

Merlin looks at Gwen and then at his comrades. They confer quietly and then Merlin looks back at the king and queen. "It will be something we have to think on. Druids were a nomadic people even before the purge. When we have reached an agreement we will inform you."

"How powerful are you?" Arthur asks Merlin suddenly and there are scandalised murmurings from around the table. Merlin stares at Arthur, lost for words and it is Morgana who comes to his rescue.

"He is Emrys. His birth was prophesied by a great seer and his coming foretells a vast change in Albion. He and the Once and Future King will bring about Albion's golden age."

Merlin stares at her in surprise while the other druids nod. "Where did you hear that?" he asks.

"There are many scrolls on the Isle. When a priestess foretells something we are to write it down or record it in another way. As soon as I heard the name Emrys I tried to find out everything I could about him. As you know you were not what I was expecting," she finishes with a churlish expression.

"And I made you polish my armour…" Arthur says, shaking his head and Merlin gives him a crooked smile.

"I'm glad I didn't know all that before."

"Me to. Imagine how big your head would have got!" Arthur teases and the old familiar groove of their banter appears. Merlin accepts it, shaking his head but regards Arthur with steady, open expression.

"In a few years I will become a High Priest and lead the druids. While my time as your servant is long over I would like to be part of this court, if you agree."

Arthur nods, growing serious. "And in what capacity?"

"A spokesperson for the druids and, again if you agree, as an advisor. As a people we are neutral, we take no sides and only wish to keep the balance of magic in order. As a druid and as an advisor I will remain impartial."

Morgana hides a smirk behind her hand, her eyes alight with sarcasm but Merlin keeps his expression blank. Arthur stares at him and cocks his head to Gwen who whispers into his ear. Finally he straightens in his seat, clearing his throat. "As you have asked for time to go over our offer I ask the same of you."

"Of course," Merlin inclines his head and catches Morgana's eye again. She wears an odd expression, one moment pleased and the next jealous. He focuses on her as Arthur talks to the other guests and speaks directly to her mind.

_Something troubling you?_

She looks at him swiftly, startled but hides her surprise by lifting a goblet to her lips.

_Troubling? If I knew this meeting would be about you both kissing and making up I wouldn't have bothered coming. How mawkish you both are._

Merlin smirks across the table at her. _You're jealous_.

 _Of you?_   Her mouth twists and she puts down her cup.  _I do not need or want his friendship, just his agreement to work with me._

 _I think being amiable will help you toward that_.

_I could kiss his feet and he would still loath me. Oh he smiles at me and seems to bare it gladly but it will never be the same._

Merlin tilts his head at her, unaware that their silent communication is getting attention.  _You're upset at the loss of your relationship._

Morgana sneers and rolls her eyes but then freezes when she sees that all eyes are on her and Merlin.

"Care to share? You've been staring into each other's eyes for minutes now," Arthur asks lightly and there are titters from around the table.

Flustered but trying to cover it Morgana pins Arthur with a look and leans over to him. "You have talked with the druids and others but what of the priestesses?"

"What do you want?" he asks evenly. If he hates Morgana, as she seems to think, he does not show it.

"Numbers and representation of our religion back in Camelot. I know there are women in the kingdom with magic, confused and scared of what they are. Give them a choice. They can go with the druids, join with me and my sisters at the Isle or do nothing."

"How do we know they will not be mistreated or warped?" Gwen asks reasonably and Morgana purses her mouth at the accusation.

"Seeing as you will not take my word for it take it from someone you trust. Send some of your courtiers to the Isle. Whoever you choose and they can report back to you."

Gwen and Arthur confer for a long time, their voices low. Finally they sit back and Arthur regards Morgana gravely.

"After the grief you have caused I should reject your requests but I know this is about more than just you and me. If I agree what will you give me and Camelot in return?"

"Priestesses who will gladly offer their services. We will heal and protect and provide a sanctuary to those in need. I offer our goodwill," she says passionately and then stares beseechingly at Arthur and Gwen. "I know my word means nothing to you but I have had many years to think on my actions and what I can do to amend them. I will dedicate my life to this cause and I will not stop until the Old Religion is once again restored. I only want peace."

There is an obnoxious snort from someone but Merlin cannot say who. Morgana ignores it and continues to stare at the king and queen. Gwen leans forward and the pious air she held is replaced with a desperate hope.

"You have hurt so many of us here, betrayed us for your own gain. We should grant you nothing and yet...We were friends once, good friends. I cared about you and I think you did about me. If there is even a little part of that affection left please promise this is not just empty words that cover malicious intent?"

"I  _promise_  Gwen. I mean your majesty," she corrects and speaks sincerely. Her eyes gleam with unshed tears and Gwen smiles faintly at her but Merlin knows Gwen is overwhelmed. They had loved each other like sisters once. Morgana looks at Arthur who regards her in obvious conflict. He opens his mouth, hesitates and then stands suddenly and calls the meeting to a close. Morgana slumps back in her chair, looking disappointed for a few seconds before she smirks and grabs her wine cup and swishes it around. She stares into the distance and a spark of anger ignites in her eyes. A feast it to be held for the guests and they make their way slowly from the hall so the banquet can be prepared. Merlin waits until everyone is gone and then approaches Arthur as Gwen moves to sit beside Morgana.

"That went well."

"Yes, no one died, hurrah," he concedes with a mocking smile and then stares at Merlin carefully. "I thought you would be different but you're not."

"I'm the same as I have ever been. Well, almost," he gestures at his druid attire and Arthur nods. Merlin opens his mouth, wanting to apologise but Arthur speaks before he can.

"You know it took me months to see the funny side. All those times you disappeared or were out of my sight and the day was won. It's so obvious now..." he stares at Merlin, as if he wants to say so much more but he steps back suddenly. "It's good to see you again," he says abruptly and claps him on the shoulder and moves towards Gwen. Never a man who expresses his emotions easily this is the most that Merlin can expect. It is early days and there is still a layer of frost covering the king.

As the king and queen retire to their chambers Merlin and Morgana are left in the hall with a few of the knights. They watch Morgana carefully, their eyes following her every movement and their hands are ready at their swords. Gwaine especially casts a loathing gaze at her and she pointedly does not look at him. As a line of servants enter the hall to transform it they walk out and some of the knights follow at a distance.

"I thought you would ask for the relics down in the vaults," Merlin says as they walk along the colonnade.

"I alluded to it when I talked to Gwen but I didn't want to push it," she whispers and then gives him a swift look of mischief. "Maybe I'll make my way down there tonight and steal them. It's only fair."

"That will make a good impression," he deadpans and stops when they reach the side door that leads up to her old chambers. She looks ahead with a hungry expression tinged with nostalgia and without looking to see if he follows she climbs the flight of stairs and then the winding staircase to her old chambers. It is just as she left it. Even after the awful things she has committed Arthur did not have the heart to destroy her possessions. It is the only reminder of what she had been. Morgana walks around, softly touching old trinkets as if they will break. Merlin watches her quietly.

"Funny, I never thought about all the little things I left behind. Seeing it now it seems so much," she turns to him, biting the inside of her cheek and he goes to her slowly. She is battling the need to cry and he understands. This was once his home and seeing what he has left behind is heartbreaking. While he would weep openly she will not, seeing it as a weakness.

"Maybe you can take some of it back with you?"

She shakes her head and sits on the end of her bed. "No, I want it to remain as it is." She snorts softly and looks up at him. "And I accused you of being mawkish earlier…" she sighs and lies back onto the bed, the mattress only covered with a thin blanket. Merlin stares down at her as she places her arms over her head and has to look away. Morgana regards him from under her lashes and a smile curls her mouth slowly.

"What's funny?" he asks, unable to keep his eyes off her.

"Your face. You're blushing," she says coyly and to prove her wrong he sits next to her and gives her a challenging expression. She rises and shuffles close to him and Merlin swallows.

"I — I've been dreaming about it every night for months."

"Me too. It can be frustrating, only seeing fragments," she says and he knows his annoyance is down to waking up before they find release. He spends the rest of the day feeling sexually agitated and has to stop himself from performing a spell to locate her. Months ago he had been disgusted and vehemently denied the possibility of them ever making love but now, after so many months of dreaming of her, he does not find the prospect so unappealing. He stares at her, feeling suddenly bewildered. She has been his friend, his enemy but now he does not know what to classify her as.

She leans against him, her shoulder against his arm, and he stares at her lips and then her eyes. For an instant her irises flash gold and unbidden his own imitate. Being so close to her he can feel the magic she is holding and it calls to him. There is a pull that he cannot fight and in that moment he does not want to. But as he leans down and their lips almost brush she suddenly stands and walks to the door. She looks back at him innocently, as if nothing had happened and he wrestles down a growl of irritation.

"Didn't you hear the bell? The feast is about to begin."

"Better not be late," he says just as smoothly and joins her at the door. If she wants to toy with him she will not find him easy meat.

* * *

The feast was a success and now friendly chatter fills the hall. To round the evening off there is a special performance; for the first time in over thirty years magic is freely used in Camelot. Courtiers clap and cheer at the display which amounts to no more than party tricks but any magic performed is regarded with wonder. While magic has been forbidden to those born with it magic has also been a missing aspect in everyone's lives. Those gathered, from the king to servants, watch in awe.

Merlin smiles, truly content for the first time after so many years, and watches couples dance, his back to the wall. The king and queen dance and the love between them is just as strong as ever. As more couples dance he catches sight of someone with long dark hair sneaking out of a side door and leans off the wall. Morgana leaving the dance after being ignored is not unexpected but the fact that she has taken the door that leads to the vault is suspicious.

With a sense of impending doom he follows, making sure that he is unobserved, and quickly hurries after her. Maybe he is wrong to doubt her intentions but as he finds the gate forced open by magic his heart sinks. Anger begins to rise in him and it threatens to burst when he finds her shoving a gold torc into a sack.

"To think I actually believed you."

She turns and has the gall to shrug and carry on thieving. "I have not lied. I even told you I'd be here."

Merlin comes forward and rips the bag away from her and she stops. He points at her, his previous contentment shattered. "You've planned this all along, haven't you? You fooled me into believing that you'd changed so that you could enter Camelot and steal what's in the vaults."

"Please," she utters scornfully. "Don't paint me as so frivolous. I have not lied about my intentions or wish any ill will. What I am doing is not theft. I'm reclaiming what is mine. Why should I have to ask for it back?"

"I've never met anyone so conceited," he yells and she rolls her eyes and reaches for a ring but he grabs her hand and pulls her to him roughly. She bares her teeth and her eyes flash but he does not let go.

"This things have more than just magical value to me. They're important and all that is left of the old religion. I asked Gwen about it and she flat out said no. While they want to help priestesses they do not trust me personally. Arthur will not return what rightfully belongs on the Isle and he has no right to keep it. It is a sign of their hypocrisy. They will smile and appear accommodating but when it really matters they will not compromise."

"You need to slow down and give it time. You should have asked me to ask them, then he has no say in who I give it to," he reasons, trying to calm himself. If Arthur gets wind of this her chances are ruined. Why is she being so reckless?

"I do not want you to be a go between when it comes to this. Coming back here I see that I will never be accepted. And before you say I know that is my fault. But it is hurting those who follow me. They do not deserve to be disadvantaged or made into outcasts because of me."

"Then step down," he says and she blinks at him, as if she has never even considered it.

"And do what?"

"Join us," he says without thinking and he leaps upon the idea. "You wanted to join the druids once and we will accept you."

She stares at him intently, considering his proposal and then looks down at the ring in her hand. "I can't give up and I can't fail."

"You won't be giving up but you know you can't afford to regress. I know you're upset and frustrated but you need to see it from their eyes. You need to prove that you are trustworthy because words without action is meaningless. Arthur avoided talking to you and I saw your hurt. You were offended."

"No, I expected that," she says and puts the ring back. "Seeing this place again just brought back everything, the good and the bad. I know they are still angry with me but I am not a patient person. It feels wrong to beg for something I shouldn't have to."

He smirks at her suddenly. "You know if you do join the druids they will help you with your humility problem."

She gives him a sardonic gaze and then sniffs softly in amusement. "They'd be fighting a losing battle, I was born arrogant." She looks around at the cobweb infested vaults and shakes her head in despondency. "I used to play hide and seek in these vaults as a child. Now look at me."

"Come on," he says and reaches for her hand. After hesitating she laces her fingers through his and they make their way out of the vaults. They avoid being seen and make their way back to her old chambers. As they reach the door she turns to him suddenly and before he can react she kisses him on the mouth. Her lips are soft and full and he kisses her back with a passion he cannot keep in check. She makes a moaning noise at the back of her throat and abruptly pulls away and reaches for the handle behind her.

Not wanting a repeat of earlier he pushes her against the door and captures her lips again. She inhales sharply through her nose and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him against her. Her mouth parts and he kisses her deeply, caressing her tongue with his own. She pushes back against the door and they stumble into her chamber. A passion that has been building for years boils and overspills as they break apart from the kiss, panting for breath. He stares into her eyes as she threads her fingers through his hair and with a mutual nod of assent he leads her over to the bed.


	6. The Rite

People gather in their hundreds, from kings to farmers, and above them sit the High Priest and High Priestess. It has taken almost half a decade to make this a reality but on the day of Beltane the Old Religion is being celebrated formally, not practiced in secret like it is something to be ashamed of. Morgana proudly looks at the people come to worship but a flutter of nerves makes her hands tighten on the arms of her makeshift throne.

It has taken so long for her to get to this point, not only as a priestess but as a person. Her half brother stands below, looking slightly bored but he is here. Guinevere smiles, looking intrigued at what is about to happen. It had been her idea to open the Isle to everyone, no matter how high or low their station and Morgana agreed. The castle now shines brightly in the sun; even the mist has melted away so the Isle stands clear and majestic in the lake. This is all she has ever wanted but her worry that it will be ruined is not something she can suppress. As she quietly frets Merlin brushes his fingers against hers and she turns to him with a smile.

_Nervous?_

_A little_ , she thinks and directs the thought to him.

Their communication is mostly conducted through telepathy now. There are days when they will never speak a word to each other but hold long mental discussions for no one else to hear. Merlin nods and looks back at the crowd and his smile falters slightly as he sees someone and Morgana looks. Her heart leaps.

"Mordred," she happily says aloud and the newly made knight nods at her respectfully and then at Merlin. The worry that had beset her fades away because she has nothing to fear. All her loved ones are here, all those who are left. Inhaling she looks at Merlin, asking him silently if he is ready and they stand up together and face the crowd.

Everyone falls silent as they watch Merlin and Morgana moving to an altar where they take a single object each. Clutched in Merlin's fist is a dagger made from jagged flint and the wooden handle bound with cord. The athame is clearly very old and despite its feeble appearance it is very powerful. Clutched between her hands is the gold cup of life which she reverently holds up high for all to see. Retrieving this crucial artefact had proven difficult but she had persisted and only last year it had fallen back into the right hands. Filling the chalice with healing water she turns to Merlin and holds out the cup to him, her eyes glinting. Chanting the ritual in the old tongue they bring together the athame and chalice, representing an act that in days long past would have been enacted with only the priest and priestess. To the delicate sensibilities of those gathered it was deemed too risqué. Or as Arthur adequately put it:

"I'm not going to a magical island to watch an orgy."

The blade sinks into the water within the chalice and as the spell is completed the cup will now be offered to those in attendance. The ritual, though symbolic, does have a practical benefit. The healing water within the chalice will now never run dry or be tainted and will heal those who are sick, wounded or barren. Crops and groves that do not produce will thrive and provide in abundance after the water is dispersed over the ground. It is the start of an age of prosperity.

As the other priestesses share the water from the cup amongst the crowd Merlin and Morgana retreat back to their chamber to change out of their ceremonial attire and then join the crowd again. Morgana slowly listens to people offering blessing or complaints, healing those in need and dispensing advice while Merlin roars out words to giggling children who then watch in complete awe as two dragons swoop above the lake; one gold-red, the other white.

* * *

The celebration goes on for much of the day and as the sun sinks people in attendance start to leave. Merlin watches the boats taking the guests back over the lake, the reddish purple sky reflected in the water, and then turns to look at the tent that has been set up beside the apple grove. While the ritual had been authentic there are those who do not wish to settle for a re-enactment. Today is too important to truncation an aspect of their religion to please a few but Merlin looks at the assembling drummers in annoyance. A part of him is amused, despite the irritation. When he first had visions of this night he had been more agitated about the love making then anything else. Now he bulks at her insistence that they comply as it will be an enriching experience but Merlin thinks it will be redundant. He had been happy to perform the ritual with the cup and dagger and that should be enough.

But Morgana does not see it that way. She has sunk so deep into her role, claimed her office as High Priestess to such a degree that there is no telling where Morgana begins and the priestess ends. He understands why but her dedication is extreme. For a woman who has caused such pain in the past her ongoing battle to prove herself worthy now consumes her. He wishes more than ever that she had decided to join him with the druids but she had seen that as giving up, not as a step forward towards being a fuller person. She is doing this because she thinks it is expected of her and she cannot afford to disappoint. He will comply but not because they expect him to but because he loves her.

Sighing he places his dragon scale mask on his face and heads towards the tent. All his debates are pointless. He will make love to her and do so gladly, he has dreamed of the event often enough to know that. Arthur is right, he is turning into a curmudgeon the older he gets. He enters the tent, the drums pounding and he sees her stiffening at the sight of him. She is aware of his displeasure and she is nervous but she has no need to be. But when she lifts her chin and stares down her nose at him, every inch a queen, he can not help but playfully tease her. He mocks a bow and then throws his mask aside before kneeling. Her fingers settle against the top of his head and she says his name, his other name, quietly. Unable to resist any longer he pulls her off her seat and onto his lap and kisses her fiercely.

* * *

He stares up at her as she presses her hands against his chest and grinds down on him, causing his hips to jerk. He is hard beneath her and she is more then ready for him but she likes to draw it out. They have all night and while they have been dreaming about this event for years she wants to surprise him if she can. She rises, one hand balanced on his chest while the other grasps his shaft. She watches him bite his lip as she strokes his length and then stops at the tip where she circles her thumb slowly. The focus on this area drives him insane and the more she rubs the harder he breathes. Soon he writhes under her, begging her to stop and then, in the same breath, begging for more but before she can decide what to do he grabs her hand and rolls her under him.

"You're cruel," he pants against her throat and Morgana smiles. She runs her hands over his back as she rubs her belly along his penis and he groans into her hair. He gets on his knees and begins unlacing her bodice and lowers to kiss her stomach and then ventures further. This she has seen in her dreams and she threads her fingers through his hair, anticipating the flick of his tongue between her legs when he suddenly begins kissing his way back up her body. Morgana whines and she catches the corner of his wicked grin before he lowers his mouth to her breast and she closes her eyes, her whine turning into a moan.

"Do you remember the enchantment?"

"Yes," he breathes against her skin and leans over her, resting on his elbows. They stare deep into each other's eyes, regulating their breathing as much as possible and then together they recite a spell. As the words roll off their tongues their eyes flash gold and then remain that way. The blue of their irises will not reappear until after the rite is complete. Morgana pushes at his chest gently and he rolls under her again so she can straddle him. She arches her neck, her hair tickling his knees as the magic they hold pulses through them. On it's own it is intoxicating but to invoke it now, during this act, produces a level of magic they have hardly felt before. Now combined and in synergy they feel they can touch the sky or level mountains. It is euphoric and only those truly adept can wield its power.

Their gleaming eyes never breaking contact she sinks down around him slowly, an act familiar but now infused with a thrill of the unexpected. Joined and able to feel the shudders of pleasure that pass through him Morgana can see why so many initiated before them felt like gods and goddesses. Being this connected to each other and also to the earth is a state of being beyond imagining. She rises and falls slowly, savouring the feel of him, before she starts to ride him fast and he thrusts up into her, teeth clenched. His hands grip her hips and then glide up her body to cup her breasts and she moans, her hands flexing on his knees behind her her. He sits up and gathers her to him and she wraps her arms around his neck and allows him to direct the movements, his hips bucking against hers. Their lips brush and they settle small, breathless caresses over each other's faces before kissing deeply. This is the point when they usually find release, their quirks and rhythms well known to each other, but the building approach of their climax is a far off point. They know they can last for hours and only find relief once they have both uttered the closing spell to the rite, an offering to the triple deity. Morgana wonders briefly what state she will be in if they truly hold off for hours, how sweetly wrecked she will be. It will prove to be a test to her patience and his stamina and with a wordless look she challenges him. Forehead pressed together and their eyes locked Merlin smiles in acceptance.

The rite, an act of reverence and celebration, outlasts the drums beating outside and the people come to worship. As the stars begin to wink out with the approach of morning they finally reach the point of release and in croaking voices they offer the final blessing as their orgasm rolls through them like waves. The power of it is staggering and renders them at once helpless but powerful beyond all reason. Their sense of self expands and at that moment they exist in the crushed grass below the tent and the air passing over the lake. They are everything and nothing and the only thing that keeps them moored to the world is the small but powerful throb of their orgasm. At that infinite pinnacle they could do anything with the magic pouring through them but even that slips away as reason flees and oblivion clouds their minds. They lie together in the tent, neither moving or speaking, their bodies completely spent and their minds blissfully blank.

* * *

As the first birds begin to sing in the dawn they slowly come back to themselves, their mutual peace beginning to be beset with the ache of their bodies. As Morgana wakes she tries to grasp what she has experienced but the depth and strangeness of what she had seen and felt begins to fade like a dream. She knows it is something very few people witness and for that she is humbled.

"Is it morning?" Merlin asks, his voice rough and looks around the tent blearily. She smiles and settles her cheek against his chest, hearing his heartbeat and the steady rhythm of it she falls back to sleep, exhausted. They both sleep for hours and remain undisturbed until the quiet passing of the sisters awake them. Morgana rises and stretches her arms over her head with a groan. Merlin looks up at her appreciatively and she smirks, straddling his hips again and then reaches over for a cloth bag on a table. From it she pulls out an empty scabbard.

"What's that?"

"It's a sheath Merlin," she deadpans and he bucks below her suddenly, making her jerk.

"I can see that but why do you have it?"

"It's Arthur's. I'm going to enchant it," she lifts the scabbard to eye level and then utters a spell and for a moment the sword covering pulses gold. "If he wears it he will never be inflicted with a mortal wound."

Merlin takes it from her, feeling the magic that is weaved into every part of it, and nods in appreciation. "It's a worthy scabbard for Excalibur."

"Its worth ten of the sword," she utters haughtily and places the sheath back onto the table. As she settles back against him she swivels her hips against his hardening length, making him bite his lip. "I can still feel it, the magic but it's fading." To prove her point her eyes flash gold and he smiles up at her with a sudden thought.

"Do you know why we have gold eyes? Morgana?"

His hands flex on her hips as her gyrating proves too much and he pulls her forward, making her hair fall around him. Curtained by her tresses he moves to cup her cheek.

"I  _may_  have heard this story once or twice," she teases but listens, moving to lie pressed against his side. As much as she would like to make love again she is spent and sore.

"Aeons ago, before humans had magic; there was a dragon that fell in love with a woman. Knowing that he could not woo her in his true form he made himself into a man who looked normal but for one thing. He had gold eyes. Now human he met her in the Crystal Cave."

"At the healing pool," Morgana supplies, fingers tracing the shape of his tattoo. Merlin smiles, looking up at the ceiling.

"You  _have_  heard this before. So he tried his hardest to woo her but she proved to be quite stubborn and his displays of magic did nothing for her. But then one day she got sick and so the dragon instructed the girl to lie in the pool below the waterfall. The dragon enchanted the water and she was saved. The woman and the dragon became lovers and after some time they had children."

"And they were the first people with magic. They looked human but you could tell by their eyes," Morgana whispers into his ear and the magic that had so consumed their bodies and spirit fades to a tingle. Amused by his story she presses herself closer to him as he reaches for a blanket and pulls it over them. The sapping of magic brings with it more weariness, both feeling like they could and likely will sleep the day away. Content with what they have achieved after such a long struggle they kiss once tenderly and fall back to sleep in each other's arms.

* * *

**_note:_ **

_so it's not that smutty but I hope you enjoyed. I had an idea that would follow on from this but it was a bit of a downer involving Mordred telling Morgana that he actually is her son, and Merlin his father, but was sent back through time to spare his life. Bit cracky? Maybe I'll make it into another story at some point..._


	7. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had planned to add more to this but I wanted to leave them happy. But this just wanted to be written.

They sleep for much of the day as the island quietens but the usual activities of its inhabitants are still disturbed as a clean-up starts in earnest. She rises from their chamber, leaving Merlin to sleep, and gets dressed. Morgana cherishes the memory of so many celebrating on the island, a monumental achievement. A part of her relaxes, like a knot untethering, and the loss of tension is startling. Merlin calls her a workhorse but until now she had not realised how much pressure she had been under once it had been lifted.

They still had work to do but it feels like the final obstacle to peace had been removed. Smiling she ties her hair back, grabs the scabbard she had enchanted, and walks towards the pier, where the last barge is about to sail. There she finds Mordred, staring out at the circling mists with a heavy frown.

"You look far too serious," she jokes, breaking into his thoughts. He turns to her with a soft smile and she opens her arms to him. Since she can remember, the very first time she saw him as a boy, she had felt an inexplicable attachment and that feeling has only increased as the years progressed. The hunted druid is now a knight of Camelot, the first to openly wield magic since the Purge.

"I am escorting the cup with Kara," he explains and Morgana sees her follow priestess sitting on the ship. She will take the cup and spill the water on the fields, promoting growth, good fortune and a visible promotion of the old religion. Morgana draws back and cocks an eyebrow.

"I see…," she tries not to laugh as she straightens his cloak against his shoulders but Mordred rolls his eyes. It is no secret that he loves the young woman and has done so since he was a child. For all his bravery, he has never found the courage to admit his feelings. Morgana could not be happier with the potential pairing, not only because she adores Kara, a fierce and logical woman who she hopes will one day take her place, but because she wants him to find happiness aside from that of duty.

"You see what you want," he replies dryly, mouth curling up at the corner even as his cheeks flush. No other knight would dare address her so familiarly but he is more than that to her.

"I see what is clear and nothing else. Like you," she adds softly, patting his chest. "I'm very proud of you," she utters and feels close to tears which she knows is the worse thing she can do in front of him. As a boy he had kept his emotions in check because he had to but now he feels and expresses much more, so that sometimes his emotions are very close to the surface. It embarrasses him.

"Thank you…I should be going,"

"Take this with you," she offers him the scabbard and he takes it with a quizzical look. "It's for Arthur. As long as he wears it he will never sustain a mortal wound. A thank you for him coming to the ceremony."

Mordred stares down at the sheath, smile still on his face but as the mists gather around them his happiness seems to dim with the sunlight.

"I fear…" he starts but trails off and Morgana tilts her head, trying to look at him.

"Fear what? Mordred I can tell when you're hiding something from me."

"Not as well as you think you can," he says quickly, looking back with an odd smile that drops like a brick. "I don't know how…I've wanted to tell you but…" he struggles and looks back at Kara and for some reason tears appear in his eyes.

"Mordred what's wrong?" she pulls him to her and cups his face, making him stare at her.

"I have the gift of foresight, as you do…" he starts and Morgana frowns.

"What of it? Have – have you seen something?" unbidden an image of him dying in her arms as crows circle above them enter her head and she slams it away with a vicious determination. She has made sure that future will never happen.

Mordred suddenly smiles, shaking his head. "It's nothing, just bad dreams. On my return to Camelot, I will deliver this to Arthur. Goodbye my Lady," he says softly, lowering his eyes and she kisses the top of his head.

"Until we meet again," she whispers and he looks back up at her with such a look of wretched sadness that Morgana cannot think what to say before he suddenly tugs her into a crushing embrace.

"I get my foresight from my mother. I – I was separated from her the day I was born, for my safety," he explains in a rush of words, pulling away to stare at her. "Many wished me dead."

"Why?" the word shudders from her. He has never told her of his past, in fact she assumed he had no idea. He  _is_  full of secrets.

"Bad luck," he jokes but the grin falls away and he stares at her with hard cold eyes. "My father wished me dead so my mother had to hide me…and she did."

"Mordred, I don't understand," Morgana shakes her head as Kara stands up and calls for Mordred.

"We should go, they're ready."

Mordred nods at her and then looks back at Morgana. A hasty tension vibrates between them as a terrible sense of doom settles down on her. She grips his arms, scared.

"Why do I feel like I'm never going to see you again?"

He smirks. "Trust me, you will."

"But why tell me about your mother and father?"

"Why do you think?" he responds gently and it seems years' worth of pent up frustration flows from him as her eyes flick between his. He smiles at her lovingly and leans down to kiss her forehead. As something in her opens and a cascading light pours forth he turns away and she is left with the feel of his last kiss on her skin. She watches the boat sail away, sees him leaning against Kara and then they are lost to her.

Merlin finds her sitting at end of the pier, one hand to her forehead and the other pressed against her belly.

"What's wrong?"

Morgana smiles strangely, not looking at him. "…Oh it's nothing. I'm just sad to see Mordred go."

"He'll be back," he replies formally and Morgana looks up at him, eyes narrowing. The first seed of doubt starts to stir, she can feel it and it sits sharply within her.

"Why are you cold towards him?"

Merlin lifts his brows and then his face becomes impassive. He smiles. "I just never had the time to get as close to him as you have. Come on, it's getting chilly," he offers a hand and after a hesitating moment she takes it. Today is not the time for such outlandish misgivings and she feels an odd guilt.

"Maybe it's time that you did. He's not so different from you."

"I suppose…" Merlin smiles and then leans down to kiss the side of her neck, whispering softly. She smiles, lacing her fingers through his but her smile falls when she looks back at the misty lake, troubled thoughts ringing through her head.

_I should have given the scabbard to Mordred…_


End file.
